


your cold hands (i'll save the early morning frost)

by zanykingmentality



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, F/M, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, give me all the aus, mentions some other fe:a characters too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My parents were fighting so I snuck into the school to spend the night there. Oh, your parents are fighting too? Looks like we’re band room roommates for the night.” (from <a href="http://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/post/136576208481/au-list-2-theme-school">this</a> list.)</p>
<p>Or: Two college students with parent issues and pasts they won't reveal meet in the freezing confines of a middle school band room, where stories and chocolate milk are shared and remembered for infinity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your cold hands (i'll save the early morning frost)

**Author's Note:**

> this time it's chrobin~ the husband you did not choose but learned to love!! unless you did choose him which is also great
> 
> fun fact i wrote this when i should have been stressing about school

Snow flurries outside Robin’s bedroom window, crystalline flakes dancing around each other on their gradual descent to the hard earth below. The light from her computer screen is the only source of illumination in the room, washing her cheeks in a ghostly blue glow. The sound of loud voices and banging footsteps drifts upstairs from the kitchen. Robin’s eyes are drawn to the light creeping in through the space between the door and its frame.

(Let it be known she wants nothing to do with any of it.)

The voices grow louder by the second, until she can hear perfectly her mom’s hysterical shrieking and her father’s booming voice. They’re too _loud_. She’s changing before she knows it, throwing on a sweatshirt, shoving a few dollars into her pocket alongside her phone. Her shoes, worn and faded, sit by the door. She grabs them and slips them on.

She clicks her ringer _off_ , a satisfied grin pulling at her lips.

The first thing she notices when she pushes the window open is that it’s _cold_ , much more so than she’d originally thought. She steps onto the roof and slides the window shut behind her. The wind nips at her ears and her nose. By the luminescence of the moon, she manages to crawl across the roof and drops onto the porch.

She pulls her hood up over her head and burrows her freezing fingers into the pocket of her black and purple sweatshirt. The sidewalk is illuminated by streetlamps blazing high above her head. She can tell her cheeks are red without even looking.

Her feet automatically take her to the first place she always goes at this time of night: three blocks away, light spilling out the window and onto the sidewalk.

The bright lights of the convenience store are both blinding and welcoming. The door opens with the jingle of a bell. “Welcome,” the person at the register deadpans. Robin raises a hand in greeting and makes her way to the back of the store, pushing her hood back.

She’s not looking when she opens the fridge and grabs two Coke bottles. This convenience store is the only place she knows of that sells each bottle separately instead of as a six-pack.

When she sets the bottles on the counter, the cashier raises their eyebrows and shrugs. “Two dollars.”

Robin blinks in surprise and glances down at the counter, realizing she’d accidentally grabbed two bottles of _Nesquik_ chocolate milk. A surprised laugh tumbles past her lips; she wonders how she mistook the bright yellow paper wrapped around the bottle for that of a soda. The cashier shakes their head, an amused smile curving at their lips. Robin slides a five over the counter. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s late. I understand.” They open the cash register with a _ding_ and pull out three dollars, dropping the change next to the bottles of chocolate milk.

“Thanks.” Robin shoves the money into her pocket and picks up the bottles of chocolate milk.

“Have a nice day. I mean night.”

She’s back outside, one hand gripping both bottles, contemplating where to go and what to do. Out of habit, she finds herself back in front of her house. The lights in the kitchen are on, the blinds pulled down, but she can make out the silhouettes of her parents, a stark black against the brightness of the kitchen lights.

They’re still awake, which means they’re probably still angry. She turns away and shoves her hands back into the single pocket of her sweatshirt, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Each step takes her away from broken glass and tears on the floor.

This isn’t the first time. It’s happened before. Her mind wanders to places she could spend the night: the park, the school just a few blocks away, a friend’s house. It’s too cold for the park, and she doesn’t want to call a friend.

The school it is.

The windows are dark when she approaches. She presses a hand to the cool glass and watches the snow fall around her, the way it melts into her sleeve and leaves a faint dampness.

As quickly as possible, she pulls out a hairpin, letting her ivory hair fall around her shoulders, and picks the lock on the windows. Vaguely, Robin senses orange hair brushing against her arm and whirls around - but there's no one there. She chalks it up to habit: after all, she rarely does this kind of thing alone. It's always that insufferable sweet-tooth who eggs her on. She's kind of glad he's not here right now.

With the slightest push, the window opens. Robin shoves it all the way open and crawls in, almost crashing headfirst into a xylophone. The carpet burns against her palms, but she manages to get in safely.

She leans against the cinderblock wall; it’s so cold it feels like it could burn through her sweatshirt.

The bottle of chocolate milk makes a hissing sound as she twists the cap. Almost as soon as she takes a sip, the window is wrenched open again, letting in a flurry of snowflakes and limbs and blue hair.

Thankfully, the person does not crash into the xylophone. Robin takes another sip of chocolate milk and crosses her legs. They stand and brush off their clothes. Azure eyes dart around the room and eventually land on her. “Oh. Hello.” Their voice is distinctly male.

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Hello.”

He swallows awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware someone else was already occupying this room tonight.”

“It’s alright.” She’s feeling particularly fearless tonight, so she waves his concerns away. “I don’t mind. Make yourself at home.”

He sits against the wall next to her, but leaves space in between them. “Is that…”

“Chocolate milk? Yeah. Problem?”

“No, of course not,” he says quickly. His eyes don’t stray from the bottle in her hand, though.

She slides the other bottle in front of her over to him. “Here. You can have this one.”

“I couldn’t–” he starts to protest.

“Seriously.”

He’s quiet for a moment, before murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” He twists the cap off and drinks. Moonlight falls against his face in a way that makes her chest ache.

Robin sets her bottle down next to her and shoves her hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt. “So. Is there any reason in particular you’re spending the night here, or…?”

His expression becomes guarded. “No. Not really.”

“Oh, okay.” Touchy subject.

He sighs. “If you must know, it’s my parents. They’re arguing.”

Robin stays quiet for a moment, before exhaling a quiet, “Oh.” She turns to him with a small smile. “Guess we’re in the same boat, then.” She doesn’t miss the red that stains his cheeks, but she doesn’t comment on it.

Her mind lingers on glass fragments and screams. She does her best to push those thoughts away.

The guy looks like he’s about to say something else, but Robin beats him to it. “There’s no point in worrying about it now. If you want to go to sleep, go for it. I won’t do anything.”

“I’m not tired,” he responds immediately. Robin can’t help but be reminded of a petulant child.

She raises her hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. Robin stares out the window and takes another sip of her chocolate milk. Her eyes follow the snowflakes falling to the ground.

“Hey,” the guy says after a little while. “I just realized I didn’t, um, get your name.”

She turns to him with a smile. “It’s Robin.” The look on his face makes her think he already knew that. She wonders why she got that impression. “What’s yours?”

“Chrom.” He pauses, most likely thinking, before saying, “You’re the girl who’s friends with Gaius, right?”

Robin grits her teeth. “Sticky-fingers Gaius.”

Chrom laughs. “That’s him.”

“I don’t know if we’re… friends, exactly.” She averts her eyes and leans her head back on the wall behind her. “More like… two people who hang out and continuously annoy each other.”

“That’s friendship if I ever saw… _heard_ it.” He frowns. “I’m not sure if I worded that correctly.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Robin leans forward, pushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. She ignores the way Chrom’s eyes follow her fingers. “So, I guess I can safely assume we go to the same school?”

“Yes,” he affirms. “I mostly talk to Frederick.”

“The bear meat senior guy,” Robin blurts automatically. She slaps a hand over her mouth. “I mean, uh – ”

She expects him to scowl or something, so she’s surprised when he throws his head back and _laughs_. She runs a hand over the carpet - to distract her from how melodious his laugh is. Or from how he covers his mouth with the back of his hand, or the way his eyes close and his eyelashes are long enough to brush his cheeks. He wipes away tears – from laughing too hard, she assumes.

It's suddenly far too warm in here.

“The bear meat senior guy,” he repeats, nodding resolutely. “Pray tell, what earned him the nickname?”

“Oh, well, he was asking about how I could stand to eat the stuff, and asked if I could help him get over his inability to stomach it… he went into a monologue about the importance of protecting his liege or something. I tuned out after a few minutes.” Robin scratches her cheek – a nervous habit she picked up from Stahl, probably. “He, um, also called me a savage or something like that. It was kind of hilarious.”

Chrom shakes his head. “That definitely sounds like Frederick.” Robin just grins.

They talk for an hour – about school, work, other miscellaneous topics – until Chrom yawns loudly. Robin pauses. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” When she says the words, they sound more like a statement than a question.

“No,” he protests, “I am _not_.”

An amused smirk pulls at her lips. “Sure, okay.”

He draws his knees to his chest.  “I just wish my parents got along with everyone else in our family, you know?”

She blinks at him; flashes of bloodstained carpets and patterns traced in purple ink, the back of a hand against the wood of a table, flit through her head. “That came up out of nowhere,” she says, trying to swallow down the bile that rises in her throat. “But yeah, I get what you mean.”  

Chrom yawns loudly once again. “I’m kind of scared of my dad. I’m half-convinced he’ll commit genocide.”

Robin’s eyes widen. Chrom looks at her guiltily, eyes wide. She can't help but liken him to a kicked puppy. “Sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, I…” She tears her gaze away from him. “My dad is obsessed with bringing back one of his, um, _gods_ , I guess?” She presses the back of her hand to her lips, just to remember she exists, and to remember the faded ink still etched there. “He, um, he’s done some bad stuff. So I understand.”

Blue eyes bore into her sympathetically, but their presence against her is almost uncomfortable. She doesn’t think she’s told anyone about the situation with her dad. Not the entirety of it, anyway.

Maybe someday, she will. _Someday_.

“I’m sorry,” Chrom murmurs. “We can’t choose our family. But…”

Her hazel eyes flick to him with interest. He scratches the back of his neck.

“‘The blood of the covenant is thicker than the waters of the womb,’” he quotes. “We can’t choose our family, but it’s the ties we create by choice that are inevitably stronger. You have friends who will always listen to your troubles.”

If this were an anime – _no_ , Robin does _not_ watch anime, that’s for _kids_ – a wind would blow, making her hair flick around her face dramatically, and she would look startled, while Chrom would look at her with that _same damn tender expression he has on right now_ –

“Thank you,” she manages. “I’m getting tired, so I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

He opens his mouth as if to object, but clamps it shut just as quickly, choosing instead to mutter a breathy, “Okay.” She leans against the wall and closes her eyes, despite hardly being tired at all. After a few minutes – or maybe it’s more than a few, she can’t tell – something falls against her shoulder, hair tickling her neck. She opens an eye: Chrom leans against her, all soft exhalations and slightly fluttering eyelashes. Robin can’t help the smile that curves at her lips. _I’m not tired_ , he’d said. Hah.

She finishes off the milk in her bottle and sets it beside her once again, careful not to disturb her sleeping companion. Companion? Acquaintance? Friend? She’s not sure what she considers him, really. Acquaintance will do for now.

Through the window, she can see the moon in all its iridescence, shining brightly through the window and casting light into the room.

Chrom’s breath against her throat makes her eyes droop. _Huh_. Maybe she’ll fall asleep tonight after all.

She dreams of swords and dragons and silver blood, and a voice that tells her this is all her fault.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” a young voice says, jolting Robin awake. Sunlight filters in through the window, illuminating the dust particles swimming through the air. “You two. In the school. That’s _hilarious_.”

Robin’s eyes snap open. An eighth grader towers over them, a smirk evident on their face. “Oh,” is all she can think to say.

“You’re lucky I always get to school earlier than the teacher,” the kid says. “Can you maybe, um, do _that_ somewhere else?”

Her cheeks feel hot. “We _weren’t_ ,” she says, struggling to keep her voice even, “doing _that_.”

The kid raises their hands in surrender, waggling their eyebrows. “Sure, whatever you say, pal. But, uh, what you did is technically breaking and entering, so…”

“Gotcha.” She nudges Chrom awake. “Wake up, buddy. Unless you want to go to jail. That might happen.”

“Jail?” Chrom splutters, lurching away from her. “Officer, I swear – oh. Um. Hi. Robin. Random kid.”

“Are you done?” The kid plants their hands on their hips, but their tone is more amused than anything else. “‘Cause I’ve got some things I have to do. Like, school stuff.”

“Right. We’ll be going.” Robin hauls Chrom to his feet and drags him to the window. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me that.” The kid waves goodbye to them anyway. Robin holds the window open for Chrom, then climbs out after him. She doesn’t forget to shoot a wave and a wink to the kid behind her, who stammers something that sounds vaguely like, “ _Just go!_ ”

She can’t help but laugh.

The air isn’t as cold as it was that night, though it’s still enough to make Robin shiver. Her mind wanders to her home, and then to the freedom walking around gives her, and determines the latter option seems much more appealing to her at the moment.

“So, um, are you walking home?” she asks Chrom. He looks pretty awake now, his eyes sweeping over the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

“Right now?” They both walk down the sidewalk and under the flickering streetlamps. They sky is grey with low-hanging clouds and fresh with early morning frost.

“Yeah. Walk with me…?”

“Sure.”

Her hands are in her pockets as they always are, protected from the biting cold of dawn. “That certainly was an interesting wake-up call,” she comments, breaking the silence of settling snow and soft footsteps.

He grins. “Never in my life did I think the first words I’d hear in the morning would be that of an eighth grader threatening prison.”

“Oh? In that case, I’m glad you didn’t hear what they said _before_!” Robin laughs.

“What do you mean by _that_?” Chrom yelps. Robin laughs harder. “Seriously, what did they _say_?”

The rest of the walk is quiet, save for their steps and misty breaths.

“So, uh, my house is just down that street,” Chrom murmurs.

She knows how to take a hint. “I’ll see you at school, then. Once vacation’s over.” She ignores the way his eyes widen when she smiles at him.

“Does that mean I can – um, can I call you my…” Chrom swallows thickly. “Can I call you my friend?”

Robin also ignores the way her heart skips a beat. “Of course. Obviously. I mean, we just spent the night in the band room of a middle school to get away from our quarreling parents. I think that classifies us as friends.”

He exhales loudly, causing Robin’s lips to curve up in an even bigger smile. “I was a little afraid you’d say no,” he confesses.

She’s not really sure how to respond to that.

“Well, see you around, Chrom.” She salutes him and walks in the direction of the convenience store once again.

“See you around, Robin!” he calls after her.

(And of course, if she gets another chocolate milk, no one else needs to know.)

**Author's Note:**

> i headcanon that chrom is really good at comforting people even though he's super awkward and doesn't really know what he's doing
> 
> it is impossible for me to write a scene without a lot of buildup this is a fact


End file.
